


Fatal Flaw

by mitslits



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, M/M, Rare-Pair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 14:32:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5543450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitslits/pseuds/mitslits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Only after he receives a few hesitant nods does he zero back in on the young man. “And what might your name be?”</p><p>“Lee, sir,” he replies without hesitation. “Lee Unwin.”</p><p>Merlin nods. He’s going to be keeping an eye on this one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fatal Flaw

Merlin walks in the door and silence falls, authority oozing out with every step, the stern set of his face cluing the new recruits in immediately that this is not a man to be messed with. He keeps his smirk internal as he comes to a halt, eyes raking over the group of smartly-dressed men that stand before him. “Fall in,” he says quietly. 

There is a slight ripple of movement as backs are straightened, hands clasped behind them, the candidates arranging themselves into a couple rows. 

One of them catches his eye, his style of dress markedly different from that of his peers. He’s in a suit, yes, but it’s cheaply made and hasn’t been pressed recently if the wrinkles are any sign. But he’s not here to run a fashion show and he faces the group as a whole, opening his mouth to begin the usual spiel about how they’re here to become the next Lancelot. 

Before he can say a word a hand flies up. Rather unorthodox, that, but he turns to see who said hand is attached to. For some reason it doesn’t surprise him that it’s the young man in the shabby suit. “You have a question?” he prompts. 

“Yes, sir,” the man says, letting his hand fall and inclining his head towards the beds. “I was just wondering why body bags were necessary for a job interview.”

Merlin blinks, a bit taken aback. He’s never had someone question their purpose unprompted. Keeping his face neutral he stares calmly back at the recruit. “As I was going to say, before I was interrupted, this is the most dangerous job interview you will ever have. You are to write your name and your next of kin on that bag. Should you tell anyone what you see and do here it shall result in the both of you being in that bag.” He pauses a moment to let that settle in. “Is that understood?” he asks the room at large. 

Only after he receives a few hesitant nods does he zero back in on the young man. “And what might your name be?” 

“Lee, sir,” he replies without hesitation. “Lee Unwin.” 

Merlin nods. He’s going to be keeping an eye on this one. “Fall out.” With that he leaves them to their devices, joining Harry in the hallway outside. “Where did you find that one?” he mutters. 

Harry just shrugs one shoulder. “I thought it was time for a change.” 

*

True to his word, Merlin watches Lee’s progress with interest. ‘A change’ Harry had said and a change he turns out to be. 

He fucks up the water test in the most spectacular way possible: he saves the plant. Gets to a loo snorkel, glances back to see the man floundering, abandons it to rescue him. He drags him over to the breathing apparatus he’s created and sticks it in his mouth, plugs up his nose so he automatically sucks in a breath. 

At the end of it there’s no dramatics, no dead candidate he can point to for emphasis. Instead he commends Lee for his teamwork and thinks about how none of the other candidates had even noticed. 

*

“Pick a puppy,” Merlin orders. He watches the mad scramble as each recruit tries to be the first to reach the stack of cages, wanting to secure their first pick. 

Lee is the first to reach it and he heads straight for the least likely choice: a small pug, fairly dwarfed by the cage its in. 

That has one of Merlin’s eyebrows edging up, but he waits until they rest of them are all sorted out before dismissing them. “Unwin,” he says before Lee can get too far. 

He stops, swinging around to face Merlin. “Yes, sir?” 

No matter how many times Merlin has insisted that he be called Merlin Lee persists in using ‘sir.’ Shrugging it off, he inclines his head towards the small pug snuffling curiously at the grass. “An interesting choice.”

Lee just shrugs one shoulder, grin spreading over his face. “A simple one, really. Pug’s the only dog that snores louder than me.” 

*

Lee rises through the ranks quickly, even if his methods continue to be rather unorthodox. 

Merlin is already calculating how much money this guy is going to cost him in gear repairs if he makes it as Lancelot. But, for some reason, he doesn’t really mind. It would be nice to have someone with an actual sense of humor on the team, though the other candidate that’s rapidly distinguishing himself, James he thinks his name is, is just as sporting. 

They turn everything into a friendly competition. Who can hit the most targets, who can run the mile the fastest, who has the better-trained dog. It becomes rapidly clearer that they are the ones to beat. 

*

There’s one disadvantage Lee has. He’ll put himself in danger if thinks he can save others, a dangerous attribute for a Kingsman. Merlin tries to will a stronger sense of self-preservation into him, even pulls him aside a couple of times when he’s particularly careless to berate him for it. 

He’s the last to pull his parachute, watches all the others to make sure none of them are going to plummet to their deaths. Waits until he’s nearly at the threshold to tug his own open, holding out hope that Merlin wouldn’t _actually_ let one of them jump out of a plane without the proper equipment necessary for a landing.  

“Are you mad?” Merlin asks him afterwards once two candidates have been dismissed, leaving three behind. “What would have happened if you hadn’t had a parachute? None of the other recruits would have been close enough to save you.” 

Lee glances down at the white ‘K’ painted onto the grass, flashes a sheepish grin up at Merlin. “Guess I would have made that a bit red and mucked up your paint job.” 

It isn’t the answer the technician is looking for and his eyes squeeze shut as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “You have to stop being so careless, Lee. Take some responsibility for your life,” he snaps. 

“Do you genuinely think I’m not concerned with whether I live or die?” Lee asks curiously, eyes slightly narrowed. 

Merlin hesitates. He _did_ until Lee asked that. 

Sparing him from having to come up with an answer Lee just reaches out, settling a firm hand comfortingly on his shoulder. “I do want to live,” he assures him. “I just have a lot of faith in my handler.” He gives him a small smile before dropping his hand and turning to leave. “That’s you, by the way,” he tosses over his shoulder as he leaves. 

“Cheek,” Merlin mutters and wonders why his heart is beating a little faster. 

*

It’s just a test, he knows it’s just a test. He can see Harry waiting in the small alcove, ready to step in as soon as the train passes. 

But until it does Merllin has to sit and watch Lee spread-eagled on the train tracks, ropes biting into his wrists and ankles as he spits curses at his captor. The defiant facade is slipping further and further as the rumble of the train grows louder and Merlin digs his fingernails into his palms to keep his hands away from the intercom. 

“What the fuck is Kingsman?” their plant asks. “And who’s Harry Hart?” 

Lee just lets his head fall back onto the railings, eyes closed tightly as the train blares its horn. 

Merlin struggles to keep his voice level after the big reveal. “Well done, Lee.”

*

Lee saunters in, smile that’s never far away plastered on his face. His pug trots along at his side, big brown eyes turning to Merlin as they come to a halt in front of him. 

Ever the professional, Merlin doesn’t return his smile, just offers him a gun, waits until his fingers have curled around the grip before commanding him to shoot his dog. 

Not for the first time Lee surprises him. With barely any hesitation he cocks the weapon, aims it at his dog’s head, and pulls the trigger, the sharp report of the gunshot echoing through the room. But when it fades the pug is still panting happily, ears slightly perked up. 

“You were that willing to kill your dog?” he asks, brow furrowed. It contradicts everything he’s seen of him, every time he’s put himself in peril to save his teammates. 

“Shoot, not kill,” Lee corrects, almost absently. Then he blinks, focusing on Merlin, face serious for once. “I told you I had faith in you, didn’t I?” 

There isn’t a lot Merlin can think to say to that and he stares at him, speechless. 

“Besides,” and Lee’s signature grin is back full force, “he’s a terrible snorer anyways.” 

*

He had known it all along, the trait that would be Lee’s downfall. He just hadn’t expected it to come so soon. 

James had taken the shot just as Lee had, if a little more reluctantly. But the fact remained that he’d been willing and Arthur had ordered a field test for the both of them. As Bors, James’ proposer, was away, Merlin was sent in his place, his first field mission since he’d taken the position. 

Now he was reminded of why he didn’t do them. 

The heat, the blood, the gunshots he could handle. Watching Lee launch himself into the blast of grenade, smothering it before it could touch the rest of them, that he couldn’t. 

He doesn’t have to time to focus on that, not now. “James,” he says, voice as steady as ever. “Your training is over.” 

It isn’t until Harry calls him Lancelot that he can feel his heart break.


End file.
